The Masks and Covers We Wear
by InuGhost3.0
Summary: Sequel to 'Shaw's New Cover' It has been two weeks since the night in the warehouse. In that time Shaw has been given a cover as Reese's partner and Root is working as a Librarian. An incident at the Library makes Root the target of a man bent on revenge against her and it is up to Shaw to keep her safe.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_Sorry about taking so long to post this. First I ran into issues of letting myself get bogged down with other stories again, the problem of having too many good ideas and the inability to focus solely on a single story like I should. Then of course I couldn't decide how I wanted this story to play out. So apologies again for the delay. Anyway I am trying to write this one focusing solely on one character's perspective at a time. So please let me know if I am doing a good job with that, because any feedback would definitely be useful in approving my ability to provide you guys with the best stories possible._

Root was fairly certain she was being punished. Perhaps it was for some misdeed in her past when she was the master hacker known only as Root. Maybe it was for listening to that wretched librarian and not doing more to help her only friend Hanna. There was even the possibility that it was punishment for all the times she had flirted with and teased Sameen Shaw.

Whatever it was Root could only hope that she was being punished. It was the only explanation that gave her some small measure of comfort in her horrid situation. Why else would She, the Machine that she looked up to as a God and even as a Mother, have done this too her. That was the thought that kept her going. Intent on finishing her penance so that her punishment would end swiftly and be left behind her forgotten in the past like so many things.

A shrill _RING! RING! RING! _Drew her from her thoughts and with a mental sigh she plastered the fake smile, that had been used too much these last two weeks, into place on her face. With a fake cheerfulness she said "So are these all the things that you are wanting to check out?"

"Not all of them." The leer on the teenager's face made Root want to apply her Taser to a sensitive part of his anatomy. "How about you give me your number so I can check _you_ out later. Unless you want to ditch this place now for some real fun."

Root shuddered and felt bile rise in her throat. His pickup line and look were as disgusting as all the others. 'Remember you have to keep your cover. You can't neuter this guy. Even if it would be getting rid of some bad code.' Hiding her disgust as best Root took the items from him and began the process of checking them out.

Even with her attention focused on the books and DVDs Root's senses were still honed enough to notice when the teen placed his arms down on the desk and leaned further forward. He was not even bothering to be discreet about his attempt to look down her blouse.

'At least I'm wearing a bra today. Otherwise I probably would break out the Taser and Mace just to teach this creep a lesson.' The thought was a sobering one and helped her keep focused on her task at hand. She was just finishing up the last book when she noticed the man's hand coming towards her.

Root knew the teen was likely trying to cope an accidental feel of her and play it off as though he was simply reaching for his books. Problem was she had to maintain cover. So as much as she wanted to snatch the Taser hidden beneath a nearby shelf and give the guy a good jolt to the throat she had to resist the urge. Her feet planted firmly on the floor Root pushed her self away from the desk, internally thankful for the rolling chair she was seated in, and opened her mouth to yell at the guy.

That proved unnecessary as the man's head suddenly slammed down against the top of the checkout desk. There was an ugly _CRUNCH_ and blood began to spill forth. A yelp of pain issued forth as the teenager's hands scrambled for purchase.

"Evidently' Root thought darkly. 'You are so unused to exercise you can't even use your abdominal muscles to right yourself.'

It was all over in a fraction of a second. Shifting her attention off the bleeding man Root tried to focus on her savior's face when the teen finally got hold of something and raised his head and upper body off the desk. That proved a mistake as the person behind him grabbed hold of his head and shoulder's once more and slammed them back down with more force this time.

Once more there was a sickening _CRUNCH_ and from her position Root could see chips of the man's front teeth go skidding across her workspace.

"Owe! What the fucking Hell do you think you're doing!? This is assault and my father will sue you for everything you own! You'll be lucky to work in a soup kitchen after he's done with you!" The teen yelled. Blood was running freely from his broken nose and mouth. All across his face it was smeared in a disgusting mess across his face as though a toddler with red paste had used it for a canvas.

When the figure obscured by the squirming teen spoke Root quickly identified the voice as belonging to a woman. "Let me guess." The woman's voice was gravelly. There was an undercurrent of violence too it that would only be picked up by someone inclined to violence themselves. Beyond that she sounded like every other person who was having a bad day and had just gone beyond their limit and was about to completely unload all their anger on the poor idiot who had the misfortune to be their target. "Daddy is the CEO of some Fortune Five Hundred Company or a hot shot lawyer. Either way you were fortunate to be born into money and don't have to worry about working a day in your life till your out of college. Giving you free reign to do whatever the Hell you wanted to whomever you wanted because either money or the threat of your father was enough to cow anyone who tried to stand up to you. Whatever it is I've heard it all before and I did not give a shit about it the first time, the last time, or now." She applied more force to the teen's head pressing it down harder against the solid wooden surface.

Whatever comeback the guy had was lost in a gasping gurgle as blood began to fill his mouth. With each word her tried to speak flecks of blood would go flying leaving a splatter of small red puddles across the unmarked surface. He was obviously done speaking and certainly not going anywhere.

"Ma'am I assume you'll be wanting to press charges against this creep for his unwanted advances?" The woman still sounded pissed off, but much calmer now. Though there was still a noticeable undercurrent of exasperation and annoyance at the current situation.

Looking up Root finally got a good look at the woman who saved her. Her dark brown hair was tied back in a tight and sloppy bun. Though obscured slightly, by the dark blue policeman's hat she wore, there was still a slight shine visible as though she was finally trying to put more attention and care into it then she normally would. Her slightly dark features hinted at an ancestry that while of Middle Eastern origin was most certainly not the country of birth for her, her parents, or probably even her grandparents. She wore the standard uniform for an officer though it looked slightly small on the woman's slim athletic body. It still covered her appropriately but gave subtle hints that there was nothing but muscle and strength underneath that would need little excuse to be unleased. The woman had hard dark brown eyes that softened slightly when they locked with Root's.

For the first time in weeks a genuine smile lit up Root's face reaching up to her eyes. In the ghost of a whisper she uttered the name "Sam." The expression lasted all of a second before Root carefully schooled her features to not give away even a hint that she knew Sameen Shaw. As calm as she felt Root added a slight tremble to her voice. "Th-thank you. I don't know what I would have done if you had not been here."

That last sentence was especially difficult for her to say. Root regretted it the moment it left her mouth. Especially when Shaw's mouth curled up slightly at the edges in a hidden smirk.

'Damn woman is enjoying this way too much.' Playing the role of a helpless woman was not something she enjoyed doing. Her toes curled in her shoes and she wanted nothing more than to tap her foot against the floor in irritation at the current situation. Her hands were white on the armrests of her chair and for a moment Root thought she could feel the chair shake from the annoyance she was being forced to suppress. Getting to her feet she allowed a smile of relief to appear.

"Yes, I most certainly want to press charges. Maybe spending some time in Jail will help get some of the bad code out of his system."

Root watched as Shaw kept the man pinned with a single arm and reached back freeing a pair of handcuffs from her belt. Even though she could not see the face of the shorter woman Root knew Shaw had to be dancing with glee inside, or at least what amounted to it with the woman's stunted emotions.

Now that the ordeal was over Root began to pay attention to the ambient noise inside the Library. There was muffled chatter as patrons explained what had occurred to newcomers upon the scene. Just about everyone's attention was focused on the trio. It would take a few minutes before the noise level in the building returned to normal. It was thanks to the quiet that Root's implant picked up the sound of approaching footsteps. These sounded heavier than a normal customer's and had a measured quality to them. As though the person making the noise had combat training. They were fast approaching and within moments Root picked up the distinctive quiet voice.

"Please stand aside. Move please. I need to get through." The man sounded like he was whispering, but there was still an air of authority to his voice. The kind that instinctively made people listen intently to whatever he had to say and to follow the orders he gave them.

He was dressed similarly to Shaw's attire and had a cup of coffee in each hand. There was a tired smile on his face as though he was all too familiar with the scene before him. His dark eyes flickered briefly to Root's and he gave an imperceptible nod. His own way of conveying a greeting and acknowledging her presence.

"I suppose you have a good reason for handcuffing this young man. And a good explanation for why his face is a bloody mess?" Reese's voice was controlled yet there was still a slight annoyance to it as if he'd begun to grow tired of cleaning up Shaw's messes.

Root noticed Shaw's shoulder's tense for an instant at Reese's voice. Though it seemed too obvious and forced. As though the woman was pretending to be surprised at the appearance of the other office. Everything Root knew about the woman said that she knew Reese was coming long before Root had heard him approach. There was a quiet _CLINK_ as the cuffs closed around both of the teen's wrists. Then with a grunt Shaw hauled him to his feet before turning to face Mr. Reese.

"Guy was making unwanted advances towards the Librarian. She obviously wanted him to stop and he wouldn't hear it. I simply stopped him when he made a grab for her." Shaw's voice was calm, collected and business like as she looked the taller man in the eyes. From Root's position she could swear there was some unspoken communication going on between the two.

"Partner." Reese said after a few seconds silence. "You know that some people don't like it when we step outside our jurisdiction. I've had enough chats with Detective Fusco about how Narcotics shouldn't be investigating crime scenes. And I'm certain he's also talked to you about arresting people for…what was it last time?"

Now Shaw was scowling and did not look at all pleased with what her partner was saying. "Which one. The gangbanger who was in unlawful possession of a firearm? The drunk who was publicly intoxicated and threatening to assault his wife? The woman who hit a pedestrian and decided fleeing the scene of an accident on foot was preferable to sticking around and possible going to jail. Or are you referring to the woman who decided it was a good idea to try and mug me when I was walking home after work last night?"

Shaw's head turned slightly to the left so Root could see her eyes. She had to bite her bottom lip when the former assassin's eyes rolled upwards in a 'why am I putting up with this bullshit' expression before settling back into bored.

"I was worried about my safety officer." Root said with some hesitancy. Playing up her role as the helpless victim. "I do want charges pressed against the man. Who knows what he might have done to me, or other women if your partner had not been here to stop him." Once more a slight foul taste filled Root's mouth at what she had to say.

"That is all well and good Miss…" Reese hesitated. When Shaw had slammed the guy's head against the wooden desk the name plate identifying her had been knocked over. It was currently out of sight and likely covered in too much blood to be read unless it was engraved.

"Miss Graves. Samantha Graves." Root piped up. It wasn't the greatest cover name and bore too much resemblance to her old name for her comfort. But it was a decent cover and had kept her safe. She had received the identity the morning after her tryst with Shaw. It had galled her to actually be stuck as a librarian. Especially given her history with the woman who had been partially responsible for the death of her only childhood friend.

"Well Ms. Graves we can certainly hand him off to someone who actually has the authority to arrest him, but I can't promise you that he'll actually face much time. Lack of evidence and all that." Reese shot a look at Shaw.

The shorter woman simply ignored it and handed the young adult over to Reese, after she took both cups of coffee off of him. "I'll go ahead and call Lionel then." She said before setting the coffees on the desk.

Root briefly watched John escort the handcuffed youth out of the building as Shaw made a quick call to Fusco to see about getting the guy actually put behind bars. With the incident over the gathered crowd began to disperse and the patrons that had items to be checked out went over to the secondary checkout desk located on the other side of the building.

Shaw stepped away from the desk while she conversed quietly with the detective. Though to Root it sounded more like she was putting up with the man's asinine arguments about how she shouldn't be overstepping her bounds and to let actual patrolmen and detectives handle arrests for things not related to Narcotics.

Looking at the two coffees Root picked up the one that had stray long dark hair barely hanging from the lid. Likely Shaw's since Reese's wouldn't let his hair ever get that long thanks to his military training. She took a long sip of the unsweetened drink and enjoyed the feel of the scalding hot liquid going down her throat. Before she could set the cup back down Shaw had finished her call and had turned around catching Root with her drink still held up to her mouth.

Shaw's lips pressed tight together and her eyes hardened as she approached and snatched the drink from Root's slightly warmer hand. "Don't. Touch. My. Coffee." She hissed out as she set it down.

"Really Sam are you worried that you'll get sick or catch something from me. I would have thought after our brief night together that would be the last thing you'd be worried about." Root spoke in a hushed whisper and her eyes had a mischievous sparkle to them as she flirted with the combative woman.

"That night is in the past. Just like our relationship **Samantha**." Shaw growled back putting extra emphasis on Root's real name much to the woman's chagrin.

Root sucked in a breath at Shaw's words. Sure it had been two weeks since that night in the warehouse. And the two women had neither seen nor heard from each other. She could understand if Shaw was slightly upset about getting stuck at a call center, which evidently had not worked out. Though that did not explain the woman's words.

"Shaw what is the…" She started to say before the other woman held a hand cutting her off.

"Look this is neither the time of the place for this. I also don't have the patience to do this right now." Her voice was tight as was her jaw. The tight grip she had on the coffee was already making permanent indentation on the heavy paper container. Turning Shaw walked away a few steps before stopping. She stood there for a full ten seconds back ridged and not saying anything before she turned around. There was a slight hurt look to her eyes. "If you really cared…" Shaw's mouth closed tight and her eyes squeezed tightly shut. When they reopened they were hard and devoid of emotion once more. "If you cared then I would have seen you before now."

Root was speechless. She leaned back heavily against her mess of a desk. She wanted to go after the shorter woman and talk to her. To try and figure out what had caused her to become so distant to her and to…actually seem hurt. That last thought stuck in Root's head and she turned it over and around even as she watched Shaw walk away and out of the building.

'Shaw never cared. I could drop in for a few days and then disappear for a week and she wouldn't bat an eye. Now…this? Is she upset because I've been too busy to keep tabs on her? Did she actually expect me to show up at the call center for however long she was there? When….' The thought came to a stuttering stop as Root questioned if she truly wanted to even think it. 'Did she actually feel hurt?' It was that thought that felt especially cruel to Root. She knew Sameen Shaw quite well and the woman had limited emotions. She had even said as much herself. Being forced to actually question on whether or not Shaw could even feel things besides anger felt oddly wrong to Root. It shouldn't have thought. She'd spent her whole life not giving a damn about anyone but herself. It wasn't until recently that she had begun to actually value other people. First was Harold Finch, but only because at the time he had been her key to the machine. The next had been Shaw. But that had started off as merely an interest in keeping the woman alive long enough to divulge what she knew about Northern Lights to her. From there…. Root's mental train of thoughts came to a halt as her supervisor approached.

The older woman had a look of concern on her weathered face and gave Root a sympathetic smile. "Why don't you go home for the rest of the day Ms. Graves. I think you've had to endure more than enough. I will expect you to be here tomorrow for your afternoon shift though."

Root forced a smile on her face and grabbed her purse from underneath the checkout desk. Then she clocked out and headed home.

The rest of her afternoon and evening passed without incident. Cooped up in her small 3 room apartment Root spent her time on the computer trying to see if she could find anymore weaknesses in Samaritan's protection.

**DOWNTOWN POLICE PRECINCT**

Vincent Miller the 3rd fumed in the small cell he had been placed in. He had been shoddily patched up and been given a couple of aspirin upon arrival, but it had done little to ease his throbbing headache or the pain he felt from his nose and mouth. His father had already been notified of his arrest and had assured his son that he would be released first thing in the morning. It had been the old man's way of punishing him for getting into trouble once more and failing to resolve the issue of his arrest on his own.

That had been how he was raised. From day one his father had taught him that men take care of their problem on their own no matter how they had to be solved. Money fixed plenty of them sure, but that was his father's and grandfather's solutions. Vincent…well he preferred a more hands on approach. Thankfully he was sneaky about how he took care of troubles. A greased palm her to ensure the person who stood between him and valedictorian was killed in a hit and run, to a few broken bones in women that didn't know their place in the world.

It infuriated him the way that Librarian had refused his advances. Who was she to think that she could turn him down? If anything she should have been on her knees begging him to take her out for a night on the town. She had been decent looking enough for at least one or two night before he kicked her to the curb. Plus it would have been a chance to remind her of how she and others were supposed to be subservient to him. Not just because he came from money, but also because that what women were supposed to do. 'Love, honor and obey your man' Vincent arrogantly thought. 'It doesn't matter if it's your husband, your child, your boyfriend or even a total stranger. Men make the rules and women are supposed to obey them and be grateful for the scraps we toss them.'

"I'll make her suffer for this. Her and those moronic officers. They think their better than me, I'll show them. By the time I'm through both those women will be either dead or in the hospital." He muttered darkly.

Then inside his head a darker voice whispered. 'Why even give them the dignity of death. Death is the easy way out. Why not give them a permanent reminder of their place in the world? One that will remind them forever why they shouldn't fuck with you or any man. Who knows maybe if they are lucky you'll even send them a check a month to help cover costs.' His lips curled upwards at that last thought. It would be something he would never do, but it had not stopped him from using it a time or two before with some women. They had actually believed him, up until he arrange with some…'friends' to make sure the women were never found.

In the darkness of the cell Vincent Miller the 3rd plotted and waited for his release.

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review and let me know what your thoughts. If anyone is interested in possibly helping me beta future chapters please let me know, cause I'd really appreciate the help.**


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Well here is the next chapter folks. I hope you enjoy it. I wanted to get it posted since my birthday is Saturday so any of you who comment or like this will be like an early birthday gift. One final thing, if anyone knows how one can go about possibly getting a Beta could they please share that knowledge? I barely have enough time to adequately check over my work as it is, and with work deciding to throw mandatory OT at us for the rest of the month…well it's going to put a slight crimp in my schedule. Enough about my problems though, let's get to what you all are really here for. _

**APARTMENT OF SAMEEN SHAW**

It was a little after 11:00 P.M. the same day that Shaw had beaten up Vincent Miller. The small apartment was completely dark barring the soft glow from the streetlight that came through the gauzy white curtain that was drawn across the window. The pale white walls helped illuminate the sparsely decorated apartment. There was a wood kitchen table that looked to be second hand. Its scarred surface in remarkably good condition despite the harsh lifestyle of its owner. There was a single black plastic chair at the table that appeared to be a recent purchase. Its gleaming surface yet to be marred by blood and gunshot residue. The tile floor was stained in various places and looked like it needed a good cleaning. While it was cleaned regularly it had been inlaid into the floor so long ago that its color had faded over the years and from repeatedly being cleaned from various stains and foot traffic over time.

Sitting roughly in the largest room of the three room apartment was a blue couch. Aside from the king sized bed and television it was the only other piece of furniture that looked new and more expensive than most of the other furniture. It was dark blue with red trim along the seams and edges. Made of fabric similar to the kind blue jeans were made out of it was specifically designed for abuse and comfort. It could easily fit two people maybe three if the occupants had no problem sitting close together. Stuffed with cotton, especially in the arms, it would allow for someone to recline comfortable along its length or even with a leg thrown over one of the armrests. Shaw had purchased it shortly after receiving her new cover. She had been able to stay in the apartment throughout her first couple of covers and figured that was not liable to change in the too near future. It had proven to be a wise purchase since she had spent more than one night sleeping on it, exhausted after a long work day maintaining her cover identity. Each time she had awoken with no kinks or pain in her body.

The main room served as a kitchen, dining and living room. Midway down a short hallway on the left side was a bathroom. Complete with shower, a separate full size bathtub, toilet, and a long counter with a 4' x 4' mirror set above it. It was extremely clean and had now of the stains or discoloration found in the kitchen area of the main room.

At the end of the hall was the bedroom. There was a midsize closet half full of police officer uniforms hanging neatly inside. A clothes basket filled to the brim with dirty clothes was stuffed into the corner. The only other item of note was a dark black duffle bag, stuffed into the far corner of the closet closest to the bed which bulged from the numerous things inside and was zipped firmly closed.

There was an old dresser, which looked to be an acquisition from Goodwill, like much of the rest of the apartment it bore the marks of years of hard use. Each drawer was firmly closed though the bottom drawer had a shoe wedged between its nob and the floor to prevent it from rolling open. Probably the reason why the thing had ended up at Goodwill in the first place and more than a little bit annoying. Each drawer was filled with clothing. Underclothes were located in the uppermost drawer neatly separated into piles in the large drawer. The middle drawer contained various t-shirts and tank tops that were worn when Shaw worked out, which was roughly every day unless she decided she'd gotten more than enough exercise in that day already. The wedged drawer was full of a variety of pants and shorts. Some meant for working out or running in. Others from her time working on saving numbers, with a few blown knees and bloodstains on the ones that were particularly comfortable or that she liked. They too were organized neatly inside the dresser drawer. If one were to look at Sameen Shaw's entire wardrobe they would be able to easily discern that fashion was not a factor in her purchasing choices. A police officer's badge lay on the top of the dresser next to clothes that had been picked out and set aside for tomorrow. Besides the necessary uniform a pair of running shorts were set beside a black sports bra and a pair of plain white boyshorts.

The bed was occupied by a solitary sleeping woman. She lay burrowed beneath the thin white sheet and yellow blanket with her left arm tucked securely beneath the pillow. Were one to break in, or miraculously remove the pillow without waking the sleeping warrior they would see the fully loaded Sig Sauer held tight around the grip with all five fingers. Surprisingly the safety was on and likely the result of her time spent trying to save people and not take lives as she had been trained to do.

A single white nightstand with black trim was set next to the bed. A small lamp was situated right in the middle with a charging cellphone underneath it. The green light from the top of the device indicated that it was fully charged and that there were no missed calls, messages or texts waiting for the slumbering woman. Unlike its predecessors this was not a burner phone. It was the property of Officer Samantha Shaw and needed to be kept nearby since it was the only number the police department and Reese had for her. Hence why she was even bothering to keep it on or charged in the first place. It was always near her even while she slept since she knew all too well that it was during the middle of the night that most illegal activity took place, her own personal experience from working for The Machine being all the evidence she needed.

As Shaw slumbered unaware of events transpiring in the waking world The Machine did not sleep. She had been working tirelessly for over the last hour ever since she had heard what Vincent Miller had said. It had taken her longer than normal, thanks in part to Samaritan's interferences, but she had finally managed to access enough cold case files and his family's financial records to begin figuring out a pattern. With the information she had gleaned from those it had been a simple task to work her way back through the years and the data she had accumulated over her life span. If she had been human she would have been disheartened at what she finally uncovered. It started with a brief video clip of a young woman being run down by a speeding vehicle. Left to die in the pitch dark street like some stray animal. The driver had never been caught, since Vincent had decided it would be cheaper to eliminate the man as opposed to paying him the twelve thousand that had been promised. Then it began spiraling downward rape charges that had never been reported due to the threat of violence or the victim disappearing, various family members threatened or harmed if someone refused the scum's advances. Even a teenager, who could have been considered a friend of Vincent's, had been murdered solely so the psychopath could try and sleep with the deceased distraught girlfriend. That plan had backfired on Vincent when she had repeatedly refused his advances and been disgusted at the lack of compassion the then fifteen year old had for a friend. Unfortunately she had come too close to putting clues together and Vincent had struck a deal with an associate of an associate. While the girl had been in Mexico with her family Vincent's associates had struck and kidnapped her and sold her to some wealthy gentleman in China that enjoyed owning and abusing young American women. All records of the poor girl ended after she'd been put on the plane but it was not difficult for The Machine to figure out the poor woman's fate.

Near the end of her analysis She came across one last security camera footage of interest. It has been taken a little over four years ago, before Vincent had been sent to a college over in Europe. It was from an airport terminal and on the monitor the younger Vincent Miller was walking down the airport terminal headed for the gate that his flight was departing from. He was alone, which was rather fortunate for the wheelchair bound figure that was doing his best to subtly tail the young man. Though the security camera did not have the capability to zoom in back then The Machine used her abilities to focus on the face of the man in the wheelchair. While the picture was still grainy there was no mistaking the determined face of her creator Harold Finch. In the end he could not catch up to Vincent before the man departed but as he watched the gate close he muttered something to himself. "She was your last victim Mr. Miller. I might not be able to stop you myself, but I **will** find someone who will make sure you go to prison for your crimes and before you hurt anyone else."

The Machine may not have had access to all her memories, especially after the interferences from Samaritan and Decima. She knew that Vincent Miller was not the type to make idle threats. There was no need for further deliberation She knew that action had to be taken or the life of Samantha Groves, or Root as she preferred to be called, would be forfeit. There was no point in sending the creator Vincent Miller's number. While her creator meant well he would likely waste valuable time trying to figure out if Vincent would be a victim or perpetrator, which could very well be both in this case She admitted, no only one number could be sent and there was only one person it could be sent to.

A tired groan escaped Shaw as her cellphone vibrated noisily on her night table. It had been an altogether exhausting day. Dealing with an actual job that made demands of her physically was a welcome relief after so long without action and her body was still trying to get back into the rhythm of things. The only part of her day she had actually enjoyed was when she and John had stopped at the Library for some reason or other. They had received a call saying that some incident or another was occurring there and had gone to check things out. She suspected now that the call had come directly from the Machine.

She had decided to ask one of the employees there if anything suspicious was going on when she'd observed the punk's behavior. It had grated on her frazzled nerves and she had been itching for an excuse to relieve some of the anger that had been building up in her lately. Sameen wasn't entirely certain why she felt so out of sorts emotional lately and had chalked it up to her approaching period. It usually left her feeling moodier than usual, but it just seemed too early for it. When the teen had made a move at the woman Shaw had reacted without thought and had brained the young adult. It was only after she had the guy face down on the desk that she realized the person she had been protecting had been Root.

Seeing the woman had left her feeling conflicted. Normally she felt nothing at the sight of other people. Sometimes she would feel anger, especially if the person had wronged or annoyed her in some fashion. With Root…she had felt anger, not nearly as strong as when she'd first lain eyes on the woman after she'd been attacked by her, but she'd also felt something else. It was unfamiliar and had left her feeling unsettled. Vaguely she remembered feeling something similar back when her father was still alive. Though it had been so long ago that the former assassin could not be certain if her memory was accurate or if it was simply some false memory she had created in an effort to comfort herself and not feel so…different from everyone else.

The phone vibrated a couple more times before Shaw stretched a hand out. Thanks to her normal organizational skills she knew exactly where it was and with practiced ease she entered her pass code into the phone before picking it up.

"This is Shaw." She said fighting back a yawn. With her free right hand she grasped hold of the switch and struggled for a moment to get it to turn properly with her non dominant hand. The person on the other end was silent and said nothing. This gave her ample time to switch the phone to her other hand and ear allowing her to finally turn on the lamp.

"Hello." The voice started out hesitant and slow. As if unused to speaking or as though it had been too long since it had last been used. It was the voice of a woman and it had a slightly husky tone to it that was surprisingly pleasant to Shaw's ear.

"Who is this?" Shaw's voice was hard and had a bite to it that usually came out when she was becoming annoyed.

"That is unimportant. You must make sure she is safe. He will come after her and I cannot be certain that she will be able to protect herself."

The woman's words caused a tightness in Shaw's chest. She sounded certain as if there was no doubt about the future and there was only one person…if She could even be called that who knew about future events before they happened. Shaw knew that the Machine's time was likely limited, since Samaritan would already be trying to hack its way into their conversation, but she had to be certain. "It must be someone important if you are actually going to the trouble of speaking to me like a person and not just giving me a bunch of numbers."

The next words She spoke almost sounded seductive and intimate. "I see why my interface is so taken with you. You are certainly no push over Sameen Shaw. You know my time is short so you'll excuse me for cutting to the chase." She then rattled off a series of letters and numbers at a pace Shaw almost couldn't keep up with. After she finished she said "Repeat it back to me."

Shaw repeated them back verbatim and waiting to see if the Machine had anything further to say. There was a beat of silence then a quiet click and the next thing she heard was

"The number you have dial is no longer in service. Please hang up the phone and check the number before calling again." Before the message could be repeated Shaw had already hung up the phone.

Sitting up in her bed Shaw threw back the covers. Checking the time on her phone she took a moment to mentally grumble before standing up. Her nude athletic form was bathed in the soft glow of the lamplight as she began pulling on her clean clothes. It would do her no good to try and get back to sleep. Even if the Machine did not try to wake her or prod her into action Sameen's own mind would have continually twisted and turned the information preventing her from sleeping till she knew who the new number was.

Once fully dressed Shaw took a moment to take care of bodily necessities in the bathroom and pull her hair back before heading into the living room. Her stomach chose to growl as she opened the door all too used to eating whenever she was woken from sleep. 'Oh shut up. I'll grab fast food on the way to the Library.' She mentally groused successfully shutting her stomach up.

Shutting the door behind her Shaw briefly wondered what Root was up to at this hour before she headed for the stairwell and her waiting vehicle.


	3. Chapter 3

It took almost thirty minutes for Shaw to make the trip downtown to the abandoned subway station that Finch was using for a base of operations. She had taken every precaution she knew to ensure she was not followed by any tail. Most of the precautions were done to prevent Samaritan from tracker her movements and deducing that she was one of the few working against the AIs plans.

Her footsteps echoed against the brick walls their sound muffled only by the thick layers of dust that covered the steps. There was a slight trail down the middle of the steps, almost invisible, that had only a thin layer covering it as opposed to the inch thick dust balls that covered every step, hand rail and corner. She did not use any source of light. Her night vision being adequate to navigate her way safely down from the street into the black tunnels.

She knew she had reached her destination thanks to the faint blue glow emitting from one of the subway cars. Time and again she had warned Harold Finch to either power down the system completely or find a way to completely obliterate even the faint light it gave off. Even the small pinky sized 'On' switch was enough to tip off someone as oblivious as a TSA agent that someone was coming down her on a semi-regular basis. That would lead to question which would of course lead to rumors and the threat of gangs or police hunting through the subways for either a new base of operations or for illegal activity.

Rolling her eyes Shaw hit the switch lighting up the dingy medium sized platform. It had a few creature comforts to make life more bearable in a domain belonging to the pests of the animal and human worlds. There was a wooden veneer desk, more plastic than real wood, that had several chips and gouges in it that led her to believe it had been recovered from a back alley trash bin or something. A chair, looking like it had been snagged from the library was pushed into the desk with a dog leash thrown over the back. There was a bed located in the far corner. It rested comfortably on a metal bed frame and was already made up with new sheets, a blanket and a comforter. None of which matched and likely had been purchased by John on his meager policeman's salary.

'I should probably buy him lunch sometime for getting this for us. Especially since I'll probably be using it tonight.' There was a slight grumble to Shaw's internal monologue since she was still unpleased about being woken up at this time of night.

Shaw booted up the computer. While she was not as familiar with it like Root and Finch she figured it was her best chance of translating the information the Machine gave her into a working name. Unfortunately she could not find any application or file that hinted at being the secret behind Finch's numbers. With a throaty growl of annoyance she stood and paced the platform. Wracking her brain the former assassin did her best to recall where Finch usually spent his time or usually had in his hands. Then she remembered that the eccentric man was particular when it came to his books.

Memories of the man berating Bear for chewing through one of his books sounding more annoyed than usual. Heading towards the back of the platform she located a couple of dingy bookshelves laden down with equally dusty books and cobwebs. Then she spotted it. The missing layers of dust in front of specific books.

"Not a bad system Finch. Probably not the easiest to crack. Makes me wonder if John figured it out and how long it took him." Her eyes began scanning the bookshelves looking for numbers that corresponded with what she had been given by Her. A small shudder ran through Shaw as she recalled the Machine's voice. It had been well chosen and one that certainly resonated with the former assassin. At times it had reminded her of Root. Back when the hacker had merely been flirting with her and before she'd abandoned her without a word or even a goodbye.

By now she'd collected about a third of the books she needed when she ran into a snag. The others were not here. The spaces they would have occupied were empty and there were fingerprints that indicated someone had been down here recently.

'Damn it. Why can't things ever be easy?' With a mental sigh of annoyance she headed back over to Finch's desk with the books. Setting them down in the order of numbers she'd received Shaw looked them over memorizing the first part of the social security number.

"Well the first five digits are a start, but without the last four there is little hope for me protecting the number." More annoyed then anything she shut down the machine and killed the lights before exiting the subway station.

**25 Minutes Later the Downtown Library**

"I'm sorry officer but I can't let you in. There has been no incidents here this evening so I'm sure whatever it is can wait till we open at 8:30." The man sounded tired. There were dark bags under his eyes and the long sleeve button up dress shirt he wore was rumpled in several places especially in the sleeves that had been rolled up a few minutes ago when Shaw had shown up and tried to get access into the closing public library. He likely had rolled them up during the day and had only put them back down in order to avoid looking too unprofessional when she had arrived demanding that he unlock the door and allow her inside.

"Look it doesn't matter I just need to get inside for about ten minutes. Five if you help me find what I'm looking for." Mentally Shaw was grinding her teeth at the fact she was wasting valuable time doing this two step with a guy that would be so much easier to flatten as opposed to negotiate with. Yet that would be unbecoming for her cover. Maybe if she had been a member of HR, they had little qualms about busting heads as a means to an end, but no that wasn't who she was supposed to be anymore. Even though the temptation to revert back to her former self, her former life, was so tantalizing that it took strong mental effort on her part to halt the thought in its downward spiral.

The man bit his bottom lip and looked at the watch on his wrist. She could see the wheels turning in his head as he mentally debated on whether or not to let her in. Finally with a long exhaled breath directed upward, enough to ruffle the man's brown hair slightly, he stood aside. "I can give you the ten minutes. But can you try and make it quick? I usually don't close and I've got a Medieval British history class at 7:15."

Sameen gave him a quick smile and waited till his back was turned before rolling her eyes at the man's whining. 'Sounds like he's used to getting his way. At least he was kind enough to let me in before I had to resort to violence.' She was a few feet into the building before she heard the quiet **SNICK**. Her hand drifted down to her gun as she calmly turned around.

The man, his brass nametag displaying the name 'David', gave her a weary smile. "Sorry about that. I just really don't want anyone else to get in without my knowledge. Not to say that I don't feel safer with you here and that you are not capable of handling your own troubles. I just rather be safe than sorry." David's hurriedly stammered out the rest at the glower on Shaw's face. He rubbed at the back of his neck for a moment before walking past her. Evidently feeling that he'd managed to dig a nice hole for himself and was now eager to get out of it. "So what exactly are you looking for?"

It only took two minutes for David to lead Shaw to a bookcase. The majority of the time eaten up by having to travel to the other end of the library and go up the three flights of stairs.

David's lips moved soundlessly as his eyes scanned the bookshelves. After a moment he grabbed a nearby stool and set it down just to the right of the bookcase and had climbed it. Even with the extra height he had to stretch in order to pull the first book down off the top shelf. Wordlessly he handed it over to Sameen before reaching to grab the second book from another high shelf off to his left.

Taking a chance, since David's back was too her, Shaw turned the book over in her hands and quickly memorized the numbers. She did the same for the second and third book. While she was tempted to hand them back over, since she needed them no longer, she felt that would be slightly too strange and would stick in the man's mind in the unfortunate event that anyone questioned him about odd going on recently.

Now armed with the full serial number she dutifully followed David back downstairs. She would rather have made good her escape, but her cover dictated following the law. So she swallowed back her urges and allowed the guy to sign her up for a library card, a necessity to even check books out, and waited till she was outside and in her vehicle before yanking her phone out.

While Shaw did not have the level of technology Finch and Root did she did have smarts and an app that had been developed for her while she was still working for Northern Lights. Not all the targets she had been given had come with a face and name. Sometime she had to work with serial numbers.

So with a confident smile she accessed the long unused application. "Now then let's see who needs saving this time round." Sameen mumbled aloud as she put in the Social Security Number. It must have been an old one since her device did not immediately spit out an answer for her. Finally a little bar popped up saying 'estimated time to search database 29:99:99. The numbers ticketed down slowly and Shaw threw her phone onto the unused passenger seat in a huff.

"Fuck! Why can't this be simple?" She raged for another moment or two before regaining emotional control. "Fuck this. I need a beer." Starting her car she peeled away from the library and headed for the nearest bar to get a drink.

**Location: Unknown**

With a grunt the woman threw the full can of gas into the back of the battered old pickup that she'd stolen only 5 minutes ago. She preferred to ride in luxury, but her latest assignment required a little bit of skill and a shred of tact. She did not care why she was hired for this job. Hell she could care less who she had to kill so long as she was paid well in cash. She only took on jobs where the client paid in full before they gave her the job. Simply because she did not trust them to keep up there end. She'd had a few people that had tried to pull fast ones on her. Turned out that to keep some people in line all it took was verbally reflecting in how meticulous she had been at turning the first man, who'd tried to screw her on payment, into a eunuch.

She put a second full can of gas into the truck bed before climbing back inside and starting the vehicle. The engine refused to turn over at first but finally it caught and started with a throaty grumbling. Pulling out her phone she unlocked it and looked back over the information she had been given.

Finally she went to the last page of the file. It was a simple 8x10 glossy photo. The last page was always reserved for the photo and was always the last page she looked at. She needed to get into the mindset of killing a person before she saw what they looked like. That allowed her to come up with a plan without any qualms or reservation towards killing the person. Regardless if they were a man, woman or child. It also had the added benefit of keeping her from having a recognizable pattern.

The woman in the photo was cute. She had long light brown hair and a smile that spoke of a devious mind. She was rather attractive, perhaps even someone that she might have considered picking up. If she was into women that was. Once she memorized the face she turned the photo over to ensure the photograph was of the correct person.

"So sorry Love, but your death has been bought and paid for. Hopefully you've made peace with the Lord before sleeping tonight because you'll be with him shortly Miss Graves." The woman said quietly in a clipped British accent before setting down the photo of Samantha Root Graves.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Any and all comments are welcome and feedback would certainly be appreciated.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Location: Bar downtown New York**

Sameen Shaw was starting on her second beer. The chilled glass was slick with perspiration and had only a slight residual chill left in it thanks to the warmth from her hand and the beer contained within. She was feeling pleasantly buzzed and more relaxed than when she had first arrived.

The bar had mostly cleared out by this point leaving the old relic of bygone days empty of chatter and life. The few patrons who remained were more than happy to be left alone to enjoy their beers and relax after a difficult shift.

Taking a long draw on the bitter cold drink Shaw swirled the liquid around in her mouth for a bit savoring the taste of it before swallowing. Setting the beer down Sameen wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and noticed a blue light flashing intermittently from her phone. "Guess fun time is over and it is back to work." She grumbled as she picked the phone up from the wooden table top.

The back of the black protective case covering the phone was slightly wet from sitting in a small pool of water formed from the condensation of her beers. The bartender was either too cheap or too stupid to bother with coasters to prevent water from damaging the long neglected tables.

Unlocking the phone she checked the email she had received. It was a notification that the application had finished its search and come up with a result. Opening the file she took in the picture of a young girl. Hardly even a teenager. She had curly brown hair that went down to her shoulders and a mischievous yet bored look on her face. As though getting a mugshot photo taken was a waste of her time.

_Samantha Groves_

_Age: 16_

_Charges: breaking and entering, possession of stolen goods, driving without a license, running away from home._

_Address: Unknown_

_Next of Kin: Unknown_

_Suspect was pulled over on route I80 for a broken taillight. She was co-operative with police officers. When officers checked her license they discovered that it was a high quality fake. Stolen goods were also phone in the vehicle consisting of a couple of laptops, keyboards, computer monitors and hard drives. Suspect was questioned and refused to speak without an attorney present. _

_While awaiting lawyers arrival bail was posted by Rothman Oscar Octavian-Talbert. It was not till the suspect had left that it was discovered that suspect had managed to put up the funds for her own bail and had managed to skip. Suspect has not been seen since._

Shaw stared hard at the photo. Though her thinking was somewhat impaired she was certain she had seen the kid before. Even the name sounded familiar but she could not place where.

'Come on Sameen your better than this. This woman's life is either in danger or she is planning to kill someone. Obviously the police have no leads on her and no one else does either. That shouldn't even be possible unless she managed to change her identity but what kind of teenager has those kinds of connections?'

Still holding the phone and starring at the photo Shaw took another draw on her beer. Her mind was running at full speed back down memory lane to figure out why and how she knew that name and face. She quickly dismissed her time in the military and at medical school since Samantha would have taken great pains to avoid the hospital and anything that would leave an electronic paper trail.

"Samantha Groves. Rather a unique name certainly one that I wouldn't come across too often. Not like Smith, Nguyen and Jesus. I know I've seen her before but where in the Hell was that at? Samantha Groves….Sam Groves…Groves…Ms. Groves…Ms. Groves?"

Now her mind was back at the library. She had managed to tail John back to it one day and enjoyed dropping in unannounced on Harold and Bear. She remembered that Harold had been tired that day. Exhausted from having to keep an eye on Root whom he had locked up after she had escaped from the mental hospital she had been placed in. She could still remember the triumphant smirk on Root's face as she took in the look of repressed fury Sameen had given her before turning to Harold for an explanation.

She could not hear what Harold was saying his lips were moving but no sound issued out since the memory had been filed away in two part audio and visual. But then the two synched up and a partial sentence seared across her brain "…Reluctantly Ms. Groves is going to be our guest…"

'FUCKING HELL!' Sameen shouted in her mind as she violently pushed her chair back. Getting to her feet she slammed her hat on, shoved her phone into her pocket and started towards the door.

"Ms. You need to pay your tab…" The bartender began before taking a good look at her set jaw and the short quick snorts of air issuing from her nostrils and his bravery left him. "Never mind you can pay it next time." The man then moved quickly back behind the bar and made a beeline for the Kitchen.

The wooden door slammed against the building with a loud **CLACK** as it rebounded back off the wall and slammed into Shaw's shoulder. She did not register the pain as her mind continued to focus on the single fact that somehow Root had managed to slither back into her life yet again. With a huff she slid into her patrol car and started it up. Bringing her computer online she typed in the alias she recalled Root had used and waited for it to bring up the results.

**Outside of Root's Building**

Her horn blared at the idiot drunk that had chosen to swerve into her lane at the last minute without signaling. The drunk did not appeared fazed by the horn directed at them and continued on their merry way…10 miles below the speed limit. Now she was seriously considering ramming the idiot's car off the road so she could do the world a favor and remove him from it.

Her usual professionalism was lacking due to the continual delays she had been forced to endure. She had chosen to avoid the freeway and now sorely regretted it since she had somehow managed to hit almost every light just as it had turned red. Sure there had been cross traffic that had tripped the sensors, but in a few cases the vehicles had been so far away that she had difficulty believing the sensors could have been set that far out.

Finally though she had reached her destination. Pulling over into an empty spot she killed the engine and sat and waited. She knew what apartment her target was in and wanted to make sure that the woman was home. Pulling out a disposable phone she hit dialed the number.

It had barely finished the first ring before it was answered.

"Hello?" The woman's voice was thick with sleep and she sounded semi alert.

"I would like to order 3 large pizzas please. One with…" She began adding a slight slur to her words to sound slightly drunk.

"You have the wrong number. This is a residence not a pizza joint."

She smiled when the tell-tale _CLICK _came over the line. 'Perfect now I'll give it about ten minutes so she's certain to be asleep and then I'll make my move.'


End file.
